


Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday mornin', comin' down</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://hackthis.livejournal.com/profile)[**hackthis**](http://hackthis.livejournal.com/) who requested 'lazy Sunday morning sex' and [](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/)**alethialia** who needs snarky boys and porn (and cookies). My beta's off having a life or something, so all mistakes remain and are, as always, mine.
> 
> Originally posted 5-14-09

Nate doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that Brad’s already awake. He just has to reach out, his palm sliding on the cool, rumpled sheets, to know that Brad’s been out of the bed for a while. Nate grabs Brad’s pillow and tugs it against him, inhaling the sharp scent of Brad as he snuggles into it. It blocks out the sound of birds and lawn mowers, of distant church bells and shouting kids. It also filters the scent of fresh-cut grass and the salt thick sea air.

The bed shifts slightly and Nate smells coffee. He opens one eye just enough to see the rough outline of Brad, naked and tanned and kneeling at the foot of the bed, his knees on either side of Nate’s feet. “Morning.”

“Grmph.” Nate informs him, hugging the pillow closer. He keeps one eye on Brad, watching him sip from the coffee cup in his hand.

“Really, sir, that articulate manner of yours is too far over this lowly grunt’s head. You’re going to have to speak in layman’s terms or something.” He leans forward and sets his coffee on the nightstand then settles back on his heels, the muscles of his thighs playing underneath his skin. His cock is half-hard as his eyes sweep over Nate, his fingers curled in the white sheet and tugging it down slowly. “You want to repeat that last order, Captain?”

“What time is it?”

“O’eight hundred, sir.”

Nate groans and shifts, pulling the pillow over his face. “Brad, it’s _Sunday_. A day of rest.”

“You don’t get to pretend to believe in God just so you can sleep in. That’s just lazy. Not to mention tacky.” He tugs the sheet a little lower, nails grazing Nate’s thighs through the thin fabric. “C’mon.” He tugs the sheet lower still, letting the cool morning air wrap itself around Nate’s cock. “Time to get up.”

“No. It’s Sunday, it’s early and I’m not moving.” Nate hugs the pillow tighter, fighting not to laugh as Brad pulls it free, tossing it aside. “Give me back my pillow.”

“My pillow.”

“You got out of bed. Therefore all bed territory now belongs to me.” Nate reaches for the sheet, raising an eyebrow as Brad grabs his wrist, guiding it down to the mattress and pinning it there. “You owe me a pillow.”

“You can’t have the pillow.” Brad leans in, resting his weight on the hand bridged over Nate’s wrist.

“I can’t?”

“I’m afraid the pillow has been overtaken by a superior force.”

Nate’s eyebrow rises, his smile dangerous. “Superior?”

“You’re the one pinned down.” Brad smirks, his free hand tracing slow patterns on the flat plane of skin between Nate’s hip and his erection. Brad shakes his head, breathing against the rapidly hardening flesh of Nate’s cock, licking at the ridge of the smooth head. “You tell me.”

Nate groans softly, his hips rising off the bed, following the heat of Brad’s mouth as Brad pulls back. “You launched a surprise attack.”

“I told you to get your ass out of bed.” Brad reminds him, his thumb rubbing along the base of Nate’s cock “I suppose by _Army_ standards that would be a surprise attack.” He licks the head of Nate’s cock again, tongue sliding along the slit. “Of course, I thought you were a _Marine_.”

“I’m pinned down by enemy fire. Maybe I should call for reinforcements.” Nate’s voice catches slightly and he has to will his eyes to stay open, not to surrender to Brad’s touch.

“I told you I’m not doing another threesome, Fick.”

Nate laughs, the sound dissolving into a low groan as Brad takes him in his mouth. The sounds outside fade to nothing and all he can hear is his own quiet gasps as Brad’s tongue and lips tighten around and against him and the hot wet sound of Brad sucking him. Brad’s blowjobs are always as precise and intent as Brad himself, like a full-scale attack on Nate’s body – his hands and mouth and fingers and chest against Nate’s skin, touching and pressing until he’s filling all of Nate’s senses, overtaking him with the skill and finesse of a Marine and the power of a tank. Nate groans again, his free hand snaking out to rub the back of Brad’s scalp, urge him closer.

Brad’s laughter is muffled against Nate’s sensitive skin, sending shivers through Nate until he feels like he’s shaking from head to toe. Brad releases Nate’s hand and slides both arms under Nate’s thighs, holding him open as Brad eases off Nate’s cock and moves his mouth down to suck hard on Nate’s balls.

“F-fuck, Colbert.” Nate’s head falls back, smacking hard on the mattress. “Fuck.”

Brad pulls back, nuzzling at Nate’s inner thigh. “Pretty sure that violates the Geneva Convention rules for treatment of prisoners.”

“Brad.” Nate’s voice hits that tone of command he knows Brad won’t resist. Hell, Nate’s not sure Brad _can_ resist it, which he’s not above using to his own advantage. Brad groans against Nate’s balls and pulls away, reaching over Nate’s leg to the nightstand.

“On your knees, Fick.” Nate sits up quickly and shifts onto his knees, letting Brad help turn him around. Nate braces himself on the bed, tugging the remaining pillow down against his knees. Brad laughs and tosses it aside. “Not going to be needing that.”

“What is it with you and pillows?”

Brad grabs Nate’s hands at the wrists and slaps Nate’s palms against the headboard. Nate grits his teeth to keep from making any noise as Brad’s hands settle tightly over his, Brad’s body pressed hard against him, cock fitted to the crack of Nate’s ass. “Superior force.”

“You going to fuck me or argue strategy all day?” Nate’s voice is far more breathless than he likes, knowing that Brad is smirking against the nape of his neck because of it. He knows better than to give Brad any more advantages, but the slow roll of Brad’s hips bringing their bodies together doesn’t allow Nate much beyond the achingly hard evidence of his want.

Brad’s teeth graze the taut tendon at Nate’s neck and his breath whispers across the perspiration on Nate’s skin. “I was thinking about fucking you, but if you want to go the other way, well, I’m an adaptable guy.”

“Brad.” It’s almost begging when Brad pulls his body back and angles his cock so that it slides between Nate’s legs, a hint of wetness painting Nate’s sac. Nate leans back, letting the full force of his weight settle against Brad save for what is balanced by his hands grasping the headboard tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “ _Fuck me._ ”

Nate’s left with a trail of goose bumps rising on his skin as Brad’s fingers slide up Nate’s arms before he pulls them away completely. Nate’s breath feels like it’s finally breaking free of his chest, gasping out roughly as he can hear the sounds of the day again, faintly, overshadowed by the crinkle of foil, the slap of latex, the slide of lubricant. He sees Brad in the corner of his eye as he grabs the towel and wipes his hands clean, tossing it to the side as he moves back behind Nate, close and tight, the tip of his cock hard against Nate’s opening.

Tightening his grip around the headboard, Nate bites his lower lip to control the rough shudder of his breathing as Brad rocks against him, barely penetrating before he’s gone, again and again. Nate can still feel the stretch of the night before, the remembered feel of Brad’s cock buried deep, and he pushes back against him, wanting more. Brad gives him a low, hot chuckle that burns across Nate’s skin as he pushes harder, the head of his cock buried in Nate, the rest of him following in agonizingly slow inches.

“Torture is also against the Geneva Convention,” Nate manages, his head thrown back onto Brad’s shoulder.

“You’re being kind of a pussy about this, sir.” Brad laughs again and slides one hand down to curve around Nate’s stomach, fingers hitching over the opposite hipbone. “No pun intended.”

“Don’t make me tell you again, Brad.”

“Was that telling?” Brad shifts Nate’s weight forward, letting him bear it on his hands. He rests his own hands over Nate’s, threading their fingers together so they’re both holding onto the wood. Nate inhales, ready to bite out a comment when Brad pulls back and thrusts forward hard, burying himself deep and taking Nate’s breath completely away. “Sounded more like begging to me.”

After that, neither of them says anything, both too busy trying to breathe as Brad grinds into Nate, pulling back then thrusting in again, his hips pressing hard against Nate’s, trying to go deeper. Nate can’t feel his fingers, can’t feel anything but the hard throb of Brad’s dick inside him and the electric shock of pleasure every thrust sends shooting along his nerve endings. He can hear his breath, forced out of him with every stroke of Brad’s hips, knows that sweat and skin are hot and noisy as his back moves over Brad’s chest, but it’s all logical and sense memory and nothing about the hear and now when it’s just Brad, buried deep.

Nate gasps as Brad moves his hand from Nate’s and down to his cock, wrapping his long fingers around the hard flesh. It’s relief and desperation on Nate’s lips as Brad begins stroking him in rhythm with their bodies, giving Nate pressure and friction though the hard, heavy thrust is altered with Brad’s shift in balance and support. Nate does his best to make up for it, pushing back harder and faster, bending forward to rest his head against his hands so he can arch his back and take Brad deeper. The shift in angle earns another gasp, this one from Brad as he tightens his hand on Nate’s cock and focuses on the head, calluses rough against the ridge.

Nate sucks in what air he can manage, his body jerking hard as he comes, coating Brad’s hand as he continues stroking him. Every muscle in Nate’s body reacts and he constricts around Brad, earning a soft grunt and a flood of heat as Brad buries himself deeper. Brad slumps forward, his forehead between Nate’s shoulder blades, his breath fanning over Nate’s spine.

“If you’d let me keep the pillow there, there wouldn’t be a big wet spot on the bed.”

“Mmm.” Brad nuzzles Nate’s back with his nose before kissing him at the nape of his neck. “But you’ll recall I want you out of the bed, so a wet spot is a good way to accomplish that.”

“You could have just grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me off the bed instead of keeping me in it for another half hour or so.”

“You’ve slept in a hole in the ground voluntarily, Nate.” Brad kisses his neck again just at the hollow beneath Nate’s ear. “I don’t think settling in on the floor’s going to put you out all that much.”

“Yeah, but now we have to wash the sheets.”

“No.” Brad eases out carefully; disposing of the condom while Nate unlocks his fingers from around the headboard. “You have to wash the sheets. I’ve got to go to the grocery store.”

Nate glares at him. “Then why the hell did you wake me up?”

“Figure if I have to suffer, you might as well too.” Brad leans in and steals another kiss, quick and hard. “Screaming kids, overwrought mothers and hung over Marines. It’s worse than Iraq.” He slaps Nate on the ass. “Besides, if you start getting fat and lazy, I’ll have to find someone else who can keep up with me.”

Nate flips him off as Brad heads to the bathroom. “Just for that, we’re running this afternoon.”

“Is that a _challenge_ , Nate?”

“It is, Brad.” He grins and starts stripping the sheets off the bed. “And the loser sleeps in the wet spot.”  



End file.
